


30 Short Stories about Harry Potter

by missdewey



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Drama, Explicit Language, F/M, M/M, Romance, Sexual Content, Spoilers, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-07-30
Updated: 2006-07-30
Packaged: 2018-10-01 02:39:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10178861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missdewey/pseuds/missdewey
Summary: 30 short stories about Harry Potter’s life. Because sometimes just a glimpse tells more than the whole story.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from SeparatriX, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [HP Fandom](http://fanlore.org/wiki/HP_Fandom_\(archive\)), which was closed for health and financial reasons. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [HP Fandom collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/hpfandom/profile).

**30 Short Stories about Harry Potter**

**1\. Union**

The sun was bright and the air a bit warmer than was comfortable. Harry fidgeted, pulling at his collar.

“Don’t fuss, mate,” Ron whispered in his ear. “Hermione will have kittens if you mess up all her hard work.”

With a forced smile, Harry nodded and looked out over the lake. He imagined the giant squid must be sleeping, which was a bit unusual for this time of morning. Just to the left, he could see Dumbledore’s tomb. McGonagall brought fresh flowers to it every day. In honor of the occasion, it was covered in white roses. Hermione had told him that white stood for purity, loyalty, happiness. White stood for love stronger than death.

Harry felt Ron’s hand squeeze his shoulder as the music began. Conjuring up the sincerest smile he could manage, Harry turned to watch Ginny walk toward him. She really was lovely; her dress of silver satin shimmered in the light, and her hair was woven in an intricate pattern. She met his gaze and held it all the way to the end of the aisle, where she handed her roses to Hermione and slipped her little gloved hand into his.

“Dearly beloved,” the minister began.

 

**2\. Tournament**

Harry fell to the ground with a sickening thud. His hand was still clasped in Cedric’s, which was growing cold. He retched into the grass but didn’t let go of the older boy’s hand; he couldn’t. If he let go, Voldemort would win.

If he let go, Cedric would really die.

“Harry,” Dumbledore’s voice came from far away. “Are you all right?”

But Harry couldn’t answer. He squeezed his eyes shut, praying that he would wake up and find it was just a dream, just a really bad nightmare. _Voldemort isn’t back,_ he told himself. _Cedric’s alive. I can go see him at breakfast, if only I just wake up…._

“Harry,” the voice was gentler now. “Harry, let go.”

_Take my body back,_ Cedric had said. _Oh, god. Why did I let him touch the Cup?_

 

**3\. New Rules**

The attic is cold. It smells of mold and something Harry can only describe as death, because it reminds him of a graveyard. This smell lingers on everything at Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, and Harry wonders if it’s just his imagination. He’s only really noticed it since Sirius died.

He pushes the thought from his mind.

Draco Malfoy has been living here for six months now. He came to Harry just weeks after Dumbledore’s death, desperate for a way out of Voldemort’s service. Sometimes when Harry looks at Malfoy he sees him as he was that night, his hands shaking and his voice trembling as he described what he’d done. Other times he thinks of the scene in Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom, of tears streaming down pale skin and blood swirled with water on the floor. But the one thing he doesn’t see in Malfoy anymore is the boy who was once his second-worst enemy, his rival and the bane of his everyday life.

They are lying under a blanket in a dark corner because it’s the only place where they can be sure to have privacy in this house. It’s the first time they’ve been alone together, at least like this.

“You’re shivering,” Draco says, giving him a curious look.

“No, I’m not,” Harry replies. He is, of course.

“Are you scared?”

“No,” he lies again.

Draco sighs and pulls him a bit closer. “You’re a terrible liar, Potter,” he drawls, tugging the blanket a bit tighter around them.

“Just be quiet, Malfoy,” Harry says, and ensures his silence with a kiss.

 

**4\. The Cupboard**

It’s Harry’s sixth birthday, and Aunt Marge has come to visit. Uncle Vernon has told him that he is to stay in the cupboard until suppertime and to return to it immediately afterwards, else he’ll be in for it. It wouldn’t do to have Harry running around the house and embarrassing the family in front of company.

He lies in the cupboard, reading one of Dudley’s old story books and trying to be quiet. The story is about a young wizard who turns his stuffed animals into real ones and goes off to have adventures in a secret magical world. This is Harry’s favourite book, although it’s a bit childish for someone his age. Nobody knows that he has it; he snuck it out of the trash can when he was four, and has hidden it under his mattress ever since. He doesn’t think Aunt Petunia would be happy about him keeping it, because she seemed so upset about it the day she tried to throw it out.

Harry closes his eyes and imagines that he is the boy in the story. He decides that if he could do magic, he’d turn the Dursleys into cats and let Aunt Marge’s bulldog chase them around for a while. The thought is so amusing that he has to bury his face in the pillow, lest he get in trouble for laughing too loudly.

 

**5\. Interview**

“What was it like, being face to face with You-Know-Who?”

“Er,” Harry said. He watched the Quick-Quotes Quill scribbling furiously from the corner of his eye. “It was frightening, I guess. It always is.”

“Mmm, I’m sure,” Celia Winchell murmured, leaning back in her chair. “Just ignore the quill, dear. Now, this is the fifth time you’ve faced down He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and escaped, is that right?”

“Sixth, actually,” Harry answered. “I was a baby the first time, remember?”

“Ah, yes, of course. Merlin’s beard, six times and only a scratch to show for it,” she said, looking pointedly at his scar. “Quite impressive, Mr. Potter. But isn’t it true that you had assistance this last time? From a pretty young redhead you’re rumored to be, let’s say, _involved_ with? Let’s hear more about her.”

Harry scowled. “I’ve had help every time,” he replied coldly.

 

**6\. Request**

He scratches out the first line.

_Dear Lily,_

_I was hoping to see you. I need to apologize. We have so much to talk about. Will you meet me? I’ll come anywhere, anytime. Whatever you want._

He crosses out “need,” replacing it with “want.”

_Please answer. I can’t bear this silence anymore._

 

**7\. Quidditch**

The wind rushes around his body, twisting his robes and sweeping his hair from his eyes. He is weightless, airborne, _free-_

Something glimmers at the edge of the field, just beside the goal posts. _The Snitch!_ He dives, keeping his eyes trained on the little gold ball glinting in the autumn sunlight. Twenty yards away, maybe… fifteen… ten…

He feels the shift in the air as Hufflepuff’s seeker comes up beside him. Neck and neck they race, hands reaching out as the Snitch flutters upward and they pull up, he can feel the soft wings just fluttering against the tips of his fingers-

“And Potter catches the Snitch! Gryffindor wins!”

He hears the crowd cheering and his teammates are swooping down around him, a blur of red and gold and warm sweaty bodies pulling him half off his broom to hug him. Congratulations fill the air and later there will be celebrations in the common room, but for now, right now, he is focusing on the sensation of the tiny Snitch quivering in his hand, and he wishes that every moment could feel this good.

 

**8\. Heir**

Harry ran down the long hall, past carved stone serpents and into the belly of the Chamber of Secrets. A small black-robed figure lay motionless on the ground. He fell to his knees beside her, dropping his wand on the ground.

“Ginny – don’t be dead – please don’t be dead –”

Her skin was deathly pale, her tiny hands cold in his. Harry brushed the long red hair away from her neck and held two fingers there, trying to find a pulse. It was there, weak and slow but still there….

“Ginny, please wake up,” he whispered, gently shaking her.

“She won’t wake.”

Harry turned to find another boy, tall and handsome, standing just behind him. There was something off about him, though – he was fuzzy, somehow….

“Tom – _Tom Riddle?”_ Harry felt a rush of relief as he recognized the figure before him. _He can help me save her, he thought. I don’t have to do this alone—_

He watched as Tom leaned down to pick up his discarded wand and a slow, mocking smile spread over his face.

 

**9\. Rite of Passage**

Time seemed to freeze. Harry watched as the veil fell slowly back into place.

“SIRIUS!”

He tried to run, but arms held him back. He struggled and kicked and swore, but he couldn’t break free of their grasp.

“There’s nothing you can do, Harry,” Lupin’s voice was distant. The arms still held him tight, but if he could only get to the veil, get to Sirius and drag him back out….

“He can’t come back, because he’s d–”

No, Harry’s mind screamed at him, _don’t say it, he’s not, he not, he can’t be, because he wouldn’t leave me like that, he’d never…._

Lupin held him while the tears streamed down his cheeks, cradling him like a child until Harry knew, in his heart, that Sirius wasn’t coming back.

And then his eyes lit on the figure of Bellatrix Lestrange fleeing up the stairs. His blood sang in his ears, and the broken child inside him leaped up, demanding revenge.

 

**10\. Bloodlines**

Her screams shook him to the core. Harry knew it would hurt, but this… it couldn’t be right. Something had to be wrong.

Ginny clutched at his hand, gasping for breath. He pressed his head against hers, murmuring words of encouragement. He had to stay strong. For her. For them.

The screams began again, louder this time. Harry looked to the doctor, who smiled at his obvious worry.

“Everything’s fine. We’re almost there.”

Ginny arched off the bed, crying out. Then there was another cry, a sort of wailing, high pitched and desperate, and everyone was smiling. Harry felt as though his knees were about to give out when the doctor announced that his first child was a girl.

“Lily,” Ginny whispered in a hoarse voice, cradling the screaming infant in the crook of her arm. “I want to call her Lily.”

 

**11\. Lullaby**

_“Hush now my little one, please don’t you cry…”_

Warm. A crib, white all around, with blue and yellow spinning gently overhead. A woman’s voice, softly singing.

_“Lay your head down on my shoulder and sigh…”_

Red hair, long and soft and beautiful, brushing gently across an infant’s cheek. Strong, slender arms lifting, cradling. Piercing green eyes, softened by love. Gentle.

_“Sun’s gone away, and mama will pray silence will keep all around where you sleep…”_

Safe.

 

**12\. Lists**

When he is bored, Harry Potter makes lists.

_Things I won’t miss about Hogwarts when I’m gone:_  
1) Filch  
2) Filch’s cat  
3) Potions  
4) ghosts popping up everywhere when you don’t expect it  
5) staircases that move when you’re halfway up them  
6) the Forbidden Forest

_Things I’d like to do to Dudley:_  
1) give him back his tail  
2) get Hermione to send her canaries after him  
3) put a Headless Hat on him in his sleep

_Things I’d like to do if I survive the war:_  
1) play professional Quidditch  
2) become an Auror  
3) tell the _Daily Prophet_ where they can put their damn interviews  
4) go someplace where nobody’s ever heard of me for a while

 

**13\. Comparison**

Ginny’s kisses are sweet and soft, like eating fresh-picked strawberries in the summer. Harry likes the way her small hands tangle in his hair when they kiss, and the way her voice sounds breathless when she speaks to him afterwards.

She must use some sort of perfume or scented shampoo, because when Harry leans down to trail soft kisses along her neck he can smell jasmine. Ginny always tastes like things, too; her lip gloss is flavored like cherries and her mouth is always minty from toothpaste. Harry dislikes the cherries, but the mint reminds him of Draco.

Draco, who always smelled like soap and skin and sometimes sweat or broom polish. Harry would sometimes bring him a bag of mints from Honeydukes because mints were his favourite, especially the little soft ones covered in chocolate. Draco would smile and pop one into his mouth before kissing Harry, letting the candy melt between their tongues as their hands fumbled blindly with one another’s clothing, eager to touch the bare skin hidden underneath. 

With Ginny, there is no fumbling. It is slow and gentle and sweet, and Harry finds that he is very glad of the mint.

 

**14\. The Last Duel**

_“SECTUMSEMPRA!”_

Harry watched in horror as Malfoy fell, blood streaming from his face and chest. His skin was deathly white marred by thick streaks of scarlet.

“No-”

Their eyes met. For a long moment, they stared at one another, and Harry was shocked to see undisguised fear in Malfoy’s gaze. He felt his throat close up; he couldn’t breathe, Malfoy was covered in blood and he was vaguely aware of someone screaming and Malfoy was going to bleed to death, right here, before his eyes… Harry had to explain, to make him understand that he hadn’t meant to do it, not this, he would never….

“No- I didn’t-”

He choked on the words. The door opened and Snape kneeled beside Malfoy, whispering soft words to seal the wounds that were so dark against his pale skin. Then Snape was lifting Malfoy, half-carrying him from the room, and the door closed behind them.

Harry looked down at the blood on his hands and realized that there could be no explanation for this.

 

**15\. Muggles**

His heart is pounding in his chest. The brick wall is hot against his back, but he doesn’t move because he is afraid that they will hear him. He tries to hold his breath, willing every part of his body to be quiet.

“He’s got to be here somewhere,” Dudley says. Harry can see him standing just around the corner, and he inches further back until his cousin is completely out of his line of sight. “How far can he have gone?”

“He’s a fast little bugger, that’s for sure,” says another boy whose name Harry doesn’t know. “Maybe he ran back inside?”

“Nah. Wouldn’t do that,” Dudley answers. “Teachers would make him tell why, and if he tells…” A smacking sound. “The stupid little runt knows better by now. Let’s check up ahead.”

Harry stiffens. Fear floods through him, he knows they’ll find him any second and there’s nowhere to hide. Last time they beat him so badly he could barely walk for a week, and Uncle Vernon had locked him in the cupboard without supper because he couldn’t do his chores….

“There he is! Get him!”

And suddenly he is floating, looking down at the ground as it gets further and further away from him. Something’s not right, he can’t be flying, he must be dreaming, yes, that’s it, they’ve beaten him unconscious and he’s just having a dream now….

“What the hell?”

Four shocked faces stare up at him as he settles on the edge of the roof. Harry smiles down at them. If he has to be dreaming, at least this is a good one, and there isn’t any pain. He waves at the boys yelling at him below and gives them a cheerful grin, wondering how long this will last before he wakes up.

 

**16\. Unforgivable**

_“Never used an Unforgivable Curse before, have you, boy? You need to mean them, Potter! You need to really want to cause pain – to enjoy it – righteous anger won’t hurt me for long….”_

The words echoed in Harry’s head as he lowered his wand. Bellatrix Lestrange lay before him, trembling, gasping for breath. He kneeled beside her and saw the tears streaking down her cheeks, cutting a path through her heavy makeup.

“What do you think, Bellatrix?” Harry asked in a low voice. “Have I improved since last time?” He wiped one of the tears away with his fingertip and brought it to his mouth. “Oh, yes. I see what you mean now, about needing to enjoy it.” He smiled at the salty taste.

“But still, I suppose I could do with a bit more practice, considering that I’m going after your master next,” Harry said. Bellatrix glared up at him, too weak to speak the words of hatred that longed to pour from her tongue.

_“Crucio!”_

 

**17\. Fears**

“I’m worried,” Harry says. The room is dark, and he is curled against Draco’s body, arms wrapped tight around his chest. “It’s changing me, all this. I feel like I’m going to do something awful.”

Draco slides one hand up to stroke Harry’s hair. “You’re still in control, Harry,” he replies, tangling his fingers in the dark locks. “Magic only has as much power over you as you give it.”

Harry thinks about Bellatrix, lying dead at his feet. He thinks of Avery screaming at the top of his lungs, of Dolohov writhing in pain. He wonders when things such as torture and murder became second nature to him.

“Then I’ve given it too much,” he says, feeling the tears well up in his eyes. “I’m lost, Draco, I don’t know what I’m doing anymore, I’m as bad as them-”

“Shh,” Draco says, squeezing him gently. “It’s all right. I’ll help you. Anything you need, just tell me and I’ll do it.”

“What if I hurt you?” Harry whispers, thinking back to their sixth year. The tears begin to spill over.

“You won’t,” Draco promises. “You could never hurt me.”

 

**18\. Memories**

He has so few memories of his mother. As a first year, he saw her face in the Mirror of Erised. In third year, he heard her voice whenever the Dementors approached. And then in his fourth year, in the graveyard, he saw her ghostly form emerge from the spell that locked his wand with Voldemort’s.

He knows so little, really, of the woman who gave him life and then gave her life for him.

So when he looks into Snape’s Pensieve, he is thrilled to see his mother there. While his father is a bit of a disappointment, Lily is just as Harry has come to imagine her: beautiful and noble, like a princess from an old folk tale. He is proud that she stood up against his father’s childish bullying. Where his other idols have failed him, his mother alone holds fast.

Harry secretly decides that he is his mother’s son, and finds a new comfort in the fact that he has her eyes.

 

**19\. Promises**

“What do you mean, ‘it’s over’?” Draco’s eyes were cold and hard. “Fuck, Potter. Are you _dumping me_?”

Harry sighed, slipping his arms back into his robes. “It’s complicated, Draco. I don’t… Look, I’m supposed to get _married._ It’s what everyone expects. I made this promise long before you and me ever-”

“And you’re just going to let them tell you what to do? Can’t break a promise, huh? Don’t make me laugh.” Draco leaned forward, bringing his face close to Harry’s. “You made a promise to _me_ , too, you bloody bastard. Unless that was just a lie?”

Harry’s eyes widened. “It wasn’t. I do love you. But-”

“But you love them more.”

Harry looked down at his hands. “No, just… The Weasleys are the only family I’ve ever really known. When Arthur died…” He swallowed hard. “I swore to him that I’d take care of Ginny, always.”

“There are other ways to do that, you realize.” Draco’s voice was harsh.

“But this is what I promised them. It’s complicated-”

“So you’ve said.”

They sat in silence for a moment. Harry stared out the window, unable to look at his lover. He couldn’t stand to see that creamy skin without touching it, or those soft pink lips without kissing them. He couldn’t bear to see the cold mask that slipped over Draco’s features when he was angry, betrayed only by the darkening of his eyes.

“You know it’ll never be like this with her, Harry. She can’t make you feel like _this_.”

Harry turned at the touch of a warm hand against his cheek. There was something else in those eyes now, a new set to his jaw. “What are you-”

Draco kissed him hard, cutting off the sentence. Harry pressed into the embrace, parting his lips and letting his tongue brush against Draco’s. He moaned softly into the kiss, and saw the flash of triumph in Draco’s eyes as he shivered under his touch.

“If this is our last time,” Draco whispered against Harry’s neck as he pulled his robes off once more, “then I’m going to make sure that you never fucking forget it.”

 

**20\. Mistakes**

The music is loud, the way it always is in these clubs, so loud that you can’t actually hear it or make out any words but the hard beats pulse through your body the way the alcohol burns in your blood. The place is dark, with blue lights that flash intermittently over the sea of bodies thrusting and grinding against one another.

You throw back another shot before turning away from the bar, scanning the crowd for anything that catches your eye. There, in the corner. Slim build, pale eyes, long blonde hair. The stranger catches you staring and smiles, holding your gaze as he takes a sip of his drink. You move towards him slowly, not so much walking as stalking your prey.

There is no need for names or pleasantries. You feel his cock, hard and hot against your hip, and know he is yours for the taking. In the cold artificial light of the restroom, you press his face against the wall and bury yourself inside his body, which is hot and tight and feels wonderful under your fingertips, and before long you are coming, shuddering and biting back the name of another man.

 

**21\. Snakes**

He hates the way they look at him now, whispering and staring when they think he can’t see. They did that before, sure, but that was because he was famous, a hero of the wizarding world.

Now they do it because they’re afraid.

Harry wishes he’d never spoken to that snake. He should have let it bite Justin – surely Madam Pomfrey could have cured a snake bite easily enough, and then he wouldn’t have to deal with this nonsense.

A few seats away, he can hear Pavarti’s soft voice saying, “I don’t know…. You really think it’s him?”

“Of course it is. Slytherin was a Parselmouth, right?” Lavender Brown answers. “What are the odds that another one would show up right at the moment when Slytherin’s Heir is targeting students? It can’t be a coincidence.”

Across the table, Hermione slams her book shut. Lavender jumps at the sound, and her face turns red at the sight of Hermione’s glare.

Harry sighs and collects his things. “It’s not worth it,” he tells his friends. Ron and Hermione watch with sad expressions as he walks away.

 

**22\. Fallen**

Malfoy was trembling. He dropped his wand just a little, and Harry was sure he was about to say something—

The door flew open and four more Death Eaters burst onto the tower. Harry couldn’t focus on what they were saying; he was busy trying to will his body to move, to break free of Dumbledore’s spell. He thought for a moment that he could feel his little finger move a fraction of an inch, but he might have imagined it.

The door opened again, and Snape joined the group. He stared at Malfoy for a moment, as if expecting a response to some unspoken question, before turning to Dumbledore.

“Severus… please…”

Snape’s face twisted with hatred. Harry stood powerless as he raised his wand.

_“Avada Kedavra!”_

He couldn’t scream. He couldn’t move, couldn’t push Dumbledore out of the way. Harry could only stand and watch in shocked horror as the most powerful man he’d ever known fell slowly from the battlements and into darkness.

 

**23\. Dreams**

In the dream, he is in a house. It is cold and smells of dust. He moves from room to room, looking for some sign of who might live here. There is a bedroom, and next to that a nursery decorated all in white. Down the hall is a small library with a crumbling fireplace, and above the fireplace is a painting of a man wearing glasses and a woman with long, dark red hair and green eyes.

“Mum?” he calls. “Dad?”

But the house is empty. It has been for years, by the look of the decaying furniture and cracking walls. He runs down the stairs and rushes out the front door, only he finds himself still indoors.

He barely recognizes the once warm and cheerful kitchen of the Burrow. The room he stands in now is falling apart, just like his parents’ home, and there is no sign of life. “Mrs. Weasley?” he yells. There is no answer. “Ginny? Ron?”

The world blurs for a moment, and suddenly he is in Dumbledore’s office. The headmaster is not there, nor is Fawkes. Looking around, he sees that all of the portraits on the wall are empty.

“I don’t understand,” he whispers as everything swirls again. He is in his flat, and finally there is someone there with him.

“Don’t you?” Draco asks, caressing his cheek softly. “You’re all alone now, Harry. No one can protect you anymore,” he says before vanishing.

Harry wakes in a cold sweat and reaches out for Ginny.

 

**24\. Aftermath**

_It’s over._

Harry looked down at the spot where Voldemort stood just moments before. There was nothing there now; no body, no ashes, nothing. Not a trace of his enemy remained.

_It’s finally over._

“Harry?” Ron’s hand fell on his shoulder. “Is he-”

“Yes,” Harry said wearily.

Hermione looked uncertain. “Are you sure?” she asked quietly. “There’s no body….”

“Yes, I’m sure.”

_He’s gone. I survived._

He fell to his knees, exhausted. There was nothing to do now but wait for the Aurors to arrive and collect the last of the stunned Death Eaters. Ron and Hermione knelt down beside him, holding on to him, asking questions. He couldn’t find the strength to answer.

_I didn’t expect to survive._

 

**25\. Breaking Down**

Harry knows he’s making a mistake even before he knocks on the door. He’s tried to move on, to forget. He’s tried to be happy. But all of the old emotions are still there, lying just under the surface, and he knows that if he doesn’t do something soon he’ll drown in them.

The door creaks open and grey eyes meet green.

“Harry,” Draco says, stepping back to let him inside the flat. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

There’s a bitterness in his voice that breaks Harry’s heart. He wants nothing more than to take Draco in his arms, to kiss him and touch him and hold him close, until the last thirteen years just fall away as if they never happened.

“I came because-” Harry begins, but his words die on his lips. What can he say? _I came because I missed you. Because I was wrong, because I still love you. Because I can’t stop thinking about you, because I’ve been fucking strange men in clubs while my wife sits at home waiting for me just to try to get the memory of you out from under my skin._

There’s no excuse for what he’s done, to Draco or to Ginny. He drops his head and sighs.

“It’s nothing. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be here,” Harry says, moving towards the door. “I’m so sorry.”

“Wait,” Draco says, catching his arm. He moves so close that Harry can feel Draco’s breath against his cheek, and he closes his eyes at this familiar warmth. Before he can stop himself he is in Draco’s arms once more, kissing him desperately, and there is no excuse for this, none at all, except perhaps that it just feels so perfectly right.

 

**26\. Plans**

Harry Potter is a nice young man who just happens to also be the prophesied saviour of the wizarding world. His life is supposed to go as follows:

_Defeat You-Know-Who. Give lots of interviews about what it was like to defeat You-Know-Who. Marry a nice young witch in a very large, very public ceremony. Have lots of babies to compensate for those who were lost. Grow old quietly and let everyone forget that the world was once an unhappy place._

 

Draco Malfoy is not a nice young man. He is, rather, a spoiled, rich brat who happens to be the son of You-Know-Who’s right-hand man. His life is supposed to go as follows:

_Join the ranks of the Death Eaters. Provide exemplary service to the Dark Lord and rise to a position of great power. Marry a pureblooded witch from another old family. Have lots of babies to carry on the bloodline. Grow old quietly, doing nothing that might besmirch the Malfoy name._

 

Falling in love with one another does not fit into either boy’s plan.

 

**27\. Breaking Apart**

“How long?” Ginny asked. Her voice was taut with anger, her expression torn between rage and hurt.

“Six months,” Harry answered quietly. “I didn’t mean for-”

_“Shut up.”_ She pushed back her chair and stood, turning to pace the length of their small kitchen. “Six months. And what about before?”

“Before?” he asked.

“Before we were married,” Ginny spat. “How long were you fucking him back then?”

Harry winced. “Um… a long time,” he answered.

“HOW LONG?”

He sighed. “About three years. But it wasn’t-”

“Harry,” Ginny cut him off, “get out.”

“What?”

_“Get out.”_

He stared at her for a long moment. “Will you please give me a chance to expl-”

“No. Leave now, before I do something I’ll regret,” she said, carefully avoiding his eyes.

Harry left.

 

**28\. Owl Post**

The letters pile up on the floor.

 

_Dear Harry,_

_Ginny said you’ve split. Are you all right? Do you want to talk?_

_Don’t worry about work for the next few days, I’ve already handled it._

_Love, Hermione_

_Harry,_

_Heard the news. Want to meet?_

_Ron_

_Harry,_

_I spoke with Hermione. Take the next week off._

_Kingsley Shacklebolt_

_Dear Harry,_

_Please meet me for lunch. I can be at the usual place at one o’clock today. I’d really love to talk to you._

_Love, Hermione_

_Harry,_

_Hermione’s having a fit. Ginny won’t tell us why it happened, she just keeps saying to ask you. Will you please answer the bloody owls?_

_Ron_

_Harry,_

_I’m worried. Please answer._

_Hermione_

 

After a while, he stops opening them altogether.

 

**29\. Reunion**

He stands up when she enters. She doesn’t say anything, just unwinds her scarf then sits down in the chair across from his, looking at him expectantly.

“I wasn’t sure you’d come,” he says, smiling a little.

“Neither was I,” she answers. She folds her slender white hands on the table before her. “Mum wasn’t too happy about it when I told her what I was doing.”

He nods. “I don’t expect your mother will ever forgive me,” he says softly. “It’s just a little too much to ask of her. But I was hoping you might.”

She looks so much like Ginny that it almost pains him to look at her. Her features are a delicate copy of her mother’s, as is the long red hair pulled into a knot at the nape of her neck. It’s like looking back through time to see Ginny once more as she was at Hogwarts, fifteen years old, bright and beautiful and full of possibilities. Only her vivid green eyes distinguish her from that other young girl, eyes that were passed down from the woman for who she was named.

A smile touches the corner of her mouth. “Buy me a cup of coffee,” she says, “and we’ll see.”

 

**30\. Home**

He caught his reflection in the mirror and stared. There were lines where he was sure there hadn’t been any before, around his eyes and at the corners of his mouth. Harry ran a hand through his hair, noting with dismay that there were a few strands of silver amidst the jet black.

“Has the mirror been insulting you again? I thought I’d threatened it thoroughly enough last time.” Draco wrapped his arms around Harry and kissed the back of his neck.

Harry wrinkled his nose at the mirror. “No, it’s just… I look so _old_.”

“Well, you are a bit past your prime,” Draco said, grinning widely.

“Oh, shut up. You’re nearly two months my senior, don’t forget.”

“Ah, but I’m a Malfoy. We age very slowly, and then we do it with grace and dignity. And style, naturally.”

“Naturally,” Harry said wryly. He shifted around to face Draco and planted a light kiss on his lips.

“Did it go well today?” Draco asked, pulling him closer. Harry smiled.

“I think so. Lily wants to meet you. See what all the fuss is about, you know.”

“Well, that’s a positive sign. And once she meets me, she’ll be so helplessly charmed that she’ll have to forgive you,” Draco murmured against Harry’s throat.

“That was my plan all along,” Harry sighed. He felt more tired than he had in a long time. _It’s all finally catching up with me,_ he thought. _Or else I really am old._ He caught Draco’s eye in the mirror as he looked into it once more.

“Relax, Harry,” Draco said softly, taking his hand and leading him towards the bed. “Old man or not, you’ll always be beautiful to me.”

_\- fin -_


End file.
